


Floats and High-Sides

by PositivelyBedeviledSchitthead



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25499662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PositivelyBedeviledSchitthead/pseuds/PositivelyBedeviledSchitthead
Summary: White water rafting in Jackson Hole, Wyoming is big business.  Experienced guides, ones like Patrick Brewer with several years' guide experience, swift water training, and EMT skills are in high demand.After leaving everything he knew and everyone he loved behind in Toronto, Patrick has spent the past six years building his reputation and his skills as a white-water guide.  It's easy to get lost in the landscape and high-mountain life of Jackson Hole, Wyoming.He rarely takes guests on "floats" anymore, but when Ronnie called in sick because her head was "feeling swimmy" (there's a euphemism for got drunk and got laid if he'd ever heard one), their boss came looking for Patrick.    It's now his job to float a trio of "elite guests" down the river so some hot-shot photographer can take pics of a reality television star.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 69
Kudos: 168
Collections: Schitt’s Creek Sports Fest





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [SCSportsFest](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/SCSportsFest) collection. 



> Although technically done on Class 1 sections of a river, a "Float" sits somewhere below torture for an experienced river guide. There are a few who like the change-up, but not many. Once you can read a river, know every rock formation in a canyon by name, and can feel a raft like it's an extension of your own body, a float is just plain boring. 
> 
> "High Side" is a term used by white-water guides to help keep a raft upright. It is used when a raft is heading sideways towards a large obstruction (e.g. a rock or a strainer--a fallen tree), or before large waves. When a guide shouts "high-side" passengers should immediately jump to the side of the raft away from the obstruction. This lifts the opposite side of the raft in time to allow the obstruction or wave to pass under the raft. It also prevents the raft from becoming stuck or flipping.
> 
> This work is the beginning of a multi-chapter piece that combines two things I love--Schitt's Creek and the Grand Teton Mountains and the surrounding landscape of Eastern Idaho and Western Wyoming. I grew up white-water rafting on the Snake river with my dad as the guide. I am not a river guide--if you are, please don't take offense at anything I have unintentionally mangled or misrepresented.

Patrick stepped into the early morning light outside his cabin and stretched. It didn’t seem to matter how much conditioning he did during the winter months; he was always sore the first week or so he was back at the ranch. The morning was crisp, bordering on cold but he knew by mid-day, he’d be grateful for the t-shirt he was wearing under his flannel button up and the zip off cargo pants he was wearing. Today was a short day, a fact he was incredibly grateful for. He was a bit hungover from the impromptu crew party the night before, but unlike Ronnie, who had called in sick, he was up and ready for work. 

He pulled out his phone and texted Ronnie. 

Ronnie Lee  
  
U OWE ME  
  
WHTVR  
  
SMS reply  
  


He had a float starting at 11:00 AM and one shuttle up and back to Sheep Gulch later in the evening. He wasn't thrilled about the float, but given that Ronnie was probably snuggled up with the blonde he'd seen her making out with at the bar, his boss had to shuffle guides around. Patrick and Ronnie were the two oldest guides by far, so they often got stuck with VIP guests. Truth be told, given his throbbing head, he should probably be grateful for a leisurely float. It was a beautiful day and a day on quiet water would help him work out some of the kinks in his back and neck. 

Ever since his family had taken a trip to Yellowstone National Park when he was twelve, Patrick had been enamored with white water rafting. As soon as he was old enough Patrick worked weekends every spring on the Nith river which was close to home. He was an experienced river guide well before he even went to college. After he and Rachel and gone their separate ways, he decided to put some serious space between him and his former life in Toronto. Jackson Hole, Wyoming seemed as good a place as any, and in fact, was significantly better than most.

* * *

"Damn you, Ronnie," Patrick cursed as he looked at his watch for the fourth time in six minutes. He was now officially annoyed. His 11:00 AM guests were late—significantly late. 

He grabbed his phone and called the office.

“Hey, Twyla." 

"Oh, Patrick! Shit! I was supposed to call you."

Patrick rolled his eyes. He really did like Twyla but she was not the most organized office administrator. "Let me guess, they canceled?"

"Oh, no. Nothing like that." Twyla answered. “Someone from the photographer’s office called and said they would pay double if we could reschedule for Noon,” Twyla emphasized “double” like it was a great deal—which, pragmatically speaking, it was. Today, however, Patrick was less than thrilled with Twyla’s cheerfulness. A client who called at the last minute and offered to pay double was one-hundred percent going to be a major pain in the ass. 

“Okaaaaay. I’ll just sit here and collect my paycheck then.” Patrick tried to make a joke. It wasn’t Twyla’s fault and he shouldn’t take out his irritation on her. 

Dealing with celebrities and rich people was just one of the dubious “perks” of the job. Hanging around doing nothing, however, went against his fundamental work ethic and getting paid an hourly rate for doing nothing really wasn’t his style. The last time this had happened he’d under-represented his work hours and his boss had pulled him aside and told him that waiting for late clients was just part of the work—and it was work he expected to pay him for. Patrick had thanked him and tried to take his advice to heart.

“You’re in one of the most beautiful places in the world,” his boss had said. “If someone’s late, let ‘em be late. Sit back and enjoy the view.”

So, Patrick pulled the six-person raft into the shade and tethered it to a tree. He climbed in, sitting on the bottom with his head resting on the center thwart. He glanced at his watch again, 11:45. He might as well catch a cat-nap while he waited.  
  
Patrick was awakened by the sound of high heels on the concrete pavement near the ramp.

‘Surely, not?’ he thought to himself. He tilted his head back slightly so he could see under the rim of his hat. Walking towards the raft was a tall, thin blonde woman wearing a ruby red baby doll dress and high heels. She had some sort of high-end plastic purse hanging over her upside-down wrist. She was wearing a large sun hat which she was trying to hold onto in the breeze.  
  
Patrick looked past her to a tall man with black hair standing near a black suburban with his arms crossed. The man was talking to someone inside the car. 

“Are you sure this is the right place? That raft is yellow. Her dress is red. What look are we going for here, McDonald’s?”  
  
Whoever was in the car must have said something that didn’t make the man happy. He threw his hands in the air.

“Fine! Let’s just get this fucking thing over with.” He turned around and started walking towards the back of the suburban.  
  
Patrick looked him up and down. He was wearing a black long-sleeved t-shirt and black jeans that were artfully ripped at the knees. He was also wearing a pair of Rick Owens high tops that cost more than Patrick’s first car.  
  
Patrick continued to watch as the girl stopped and fished in her bag for something. As she did, her hat blew off in the breeze.  
  
“Ugggh, David!” She yelped and went trotting after her hat which was now within easy reach of the man in black. The girl pointed limply at the hat, “get my hat!”  
  
“You get your hat, Alexis!” The man said and turned back to checking what Patrick assumed was his camera gear.  
  
“David!” The girl whined.  
  
The man in black turned to her again and yelled “What?!” in a high-pitched, clearly annoyed tone.  
  
“Uggg!” The girl, Alexis, repeated as she bent down awkwardly to grab her hat while trying to keep her skirt from flying up around her ears at the same time.  
  
Patrick couldn’t help the grin that bloomed on his face. ‘Well, at least this afternoon won’t be boring,’ he thought to himself.

He pulled himself out of the raft only slightly self-conscious of how graceless he must have appeared. There is no graceful exit when clambering out of a rubber raft. He walked towards the Suburban and stopped a few feet away. 

“Hi, I’m Patrick—I’ll be your guide today. You must be…wait I’ve got it here” He paused, just to be a jerk, and pulled a card from his pocket, “David Rose with Rose Artistic Imaginings.” Patrick’s mouth quirked up when he read the name of the business. ‘Could this guy get any more pretentious?’

David narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I’m David Rose. Owner, Proprietor, and Lead Photographer for Rose Artistic Imaginings. This is my sister, Alexis.”

Alexis pranced toward Patrick, “Aren’t you just a cute little button. I’m Alexis Rose. You may have seen my television show, ‘A Little Bit Alexis’?”

Patrick looked from one to the other of the Rose siblings. “I’m sorry to say I don't own a television, but it’s a pleasure to meet you both.” 

David smirked at his response. “Wow, Alexis! We managed to find the one person in Jackson Hole who doesn’t know who you are or why we’re here.”

“I’m sorry?” Patrick asked genuinely confused.

“Ew, David!” Alexis said petulantly. “Give it a rest!”

David waved one hand in a circle towards Alexis, “Listen, it’s not my fault your publicist decided THIS (he shifted his arm and waved his hand towards the rubber raft) was the best way to atone for your sins.”

Patrick wasn’t sure he wanted to jump into this but damn it, David’s comment had piqued his interest. “Sins?” he asked.

At that moment, a petite brunette climbed out of the back of the Suburban. “David, give it a rest. If I have to hear you whine about Jackson’s Hole one more time…”

Patrick’s eyes grew wide. “That was you?” he blurted without even thinking. Everyone in Wyoming knew the story of Jackson’s patron saints of conservative values, Foster Friess, and his ongoing, very public feud with a rich socialite.

Alexis huffed and jabbed at her phone pretending to ignore them all.

David smirked as he finally took a moment to stop and look at Patrick. His eyes raked down Patrick’s body until they stopped at his Keen’s—which drew a grimace. Patrick suddenly felt defensive and oddly self-conscious at the same time.

“Stevie,” David said without looking away from Patrick, “Will you make sure you grab my phone? It’s in the front…”

“Console,” the petite brunette said, “I know. I put it there.”

“Can I help you with your gear?” Patrick started towards the back of the Suburban.

“Sure,” David shrugged. “We might as well get this over with.”

As Patrick secured David’s camera gear in the waterproof Pelican case. “You sure you don’t want to keep one out for the ride?” he asked. "We're going to be heading through some of the most beautiful scenery in the world. I saw about ten bald eagles on this stretch earlier this week." 

David looked completely disinterested. “I’m sure. Let’s just get to wherever this ‘perfect’ spot your boss sold her publicist on so we can get back to town.”

“Okay,” Patrick said. “If you’ll all follow me, I’ll get your life jackets.”

David raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. Stevie grabbed his arm. “Come on, David. We’ve been over this. They won’t take anyone who won’t wear a life jacket.”

“Fine,” David said.

Alexis teetered over to Patrick last making sure to flirt with him as he helped her secure her life jacket. 

“Okay,” Patrick said, “I know they went over most of the safety stuff when you signed your waivers at the office, but there are a few things I should share with you now.”

He proceeded to go through his standard set of instructions and asked them a few questions to make sure they understood. This might be a float, which was the safest way to experience the river, but rules were rules. Plus, he’d never lost a guest or a raft and he wasn’t about to start with a high-profile client.

“Alexis, you will be in the back section by the camera gear. I’ll be in the middle, Stevie and David, I’d like you on either side in front of me. Have either of you used a paddle?”

Stevie snorted. David glared at her.

“Ignore her," David answered. "I went kayaking once when my Dad was going through a mid-life crisis. It was terrifying. But that was mostly because I had to spend four hours listening to my Dad wax poetic about his childhood working in a button factory.”

Patrick wasn't sure if he was joking or not, so he decided it was best to just push past David's little revelation. “Don’t worry, I won’t need you to do much.” He went on to cover the basics just like he always did. He knew this speech by heart—saying the same thing every day usually to two different groups of tourists every summer for the past twelve years kind of had that effect. Although none of his passengers had ever been quite like this group. 

He heard himself talking about paddle forward, left back, right back but he couldn’t stop looking at David’s hands. They were big but somehow delicate as well. When he was finished going over the basics, he knew he needed to do the thing he’d been dreading. He was going to have to have the talk to them about their footwear. He decided to start with the easiest one first.

“Stevie, we have water shoes in the van, but the Keds you’re wearing are just fine if you don’t mind getting them wet.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Stevie said, “That’s why I wore them.”

David looked like he’d seen a ghost. “What do you mean get them wet?”

Patrick paused unsure of what to say exactly. This also never happened to him. What the hell was wrong with him? 

Before he could say anything, Stevie smacked David’s arm and pointed at the river. “You know that’s a river, right? And that river’s have water? And that water makes things wet?”

Alexis started laughing—it was a vibrant, spontaneous and genuine laugh that made Patrick feel instantly at ease. “Looks like those Rick Owens are gonna have to go back in the rental car, David.”

David immediately looked at Alexis’ feet and said, “And so are those Jimmy Choos, Alexis.”

“What?!!” she squeaked in alarm. “But these are the WHOLE point of this photo shoot.”

“Oh, really?” David asked. “And here I thought the WHOLE point of this photo shoot was a fucked up way of apologizing to 20,000 people for saying they were ‘just flyovers living in a town named after a guy named Jackson’s hole.”

“Uggggh…give it a rest, David.” Alexis said. Patrick was beginning to think "Ugggh" was Alexis' favorite word. He couldn't WAIT to get back to the ranch to tell Ronnie who she'd missed out on meeting today. In fact, he felt positively gleeful. Ronnie had found the twitter feud between the socialite and the patron saint of Rick Santorum's run for president hilarious. She'd actually snorted when she read them the tweet about Jackson's "hole."

David turned to look at Patrick. “I would love nothing more than to see my sister have to wear a pair of your rubber shoes, but they really do make the outfit—especially since the boat is yellow and not blue like what was depicted on your brochure.”

Patrick was slightly shorter than David but stockier and he knew he had the final say here so it really didn’t matter much, but he decided to make his point anyway—something about this guy was amusing the hell out of him. 

“Actually, David, if you’d flipped the brochure over, you would have seen a yellow boat and a red one as well.”

Before David could interject, Patrick continued. “Alexis, I’ll put your shoes in the dry box and you can put them on when we stop for the photos. David, would you like to come with me to try a pair of water shoes—you look like a size twelve, yes?”

David made a sound halfway between a squeal and a yelp. “Can’t I just go barefoot?” 

“No, I’m afraid you can’t, David," Patrick said smiling his most polite, reserved for VIP clients smile. "It’s a safety thing. Though, and it really does pain me to say this, I have nothing in a size twelve that will compliment the whole pseudo-gothic/hipster vibe you've got going on." Patrick tossed this last over his shoulder, not even stopping to enjoy the look of dismay he knew was spreading across David's face. 

"Come on, Alexis," he called. "You too. You’re a size six, right?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The float trip brings out Patrick's flirty side, the photo shoot goes awry, and David gets Patrick's number.

Patrick had just finished the story of how Deadman’s Bar got its name when David politely asked if he could get a camera out of the pelican case. Patrick tried not to look smug when he said, “Of course.”

David’s face was one of the most expressive Patrick had ever seen, and he knew as soon as they rounded the first bend that the Tetons had worked their magic yet again. Stevie, Alexis and David were all silent as a bald eagle flew overhead and Patrick pointed out the nearby aerie. David rapidly switched lenses, opting for a zoom to get better shots of the wildlife. 

Floats into Grand Teton National Park were among Patrick’s favorites—if he had to do a float at all. 

David was frowning down at his camera as he was skimming back through the photos he’d taken. 

“What’s wrong?” Stevie asked noticing David’s grimace.

“The light’s all wrong for landscapes.”

Patrick said, “Yeah, the light is pretty flat at mid-day. You could always come back for a sunset float.”

Alexis looked horrified. “David, if I’m not on that plane tonight, I’m going to miss Stavros’ birthday weekend brunch tomorrow.”

“Stop whining, Alexis,” David snapped. “We’re doing the shots as planned—we’re flying out together, remember?” 

He looked through a few more pictures and frowned again. “What time is the sunset float?” David asked.

“5:30 pm.” Patrick answered. 

“And it’s how long?” 

“It’s 3 and a half hours.”

“Stevie, can you call the pilot and ask him if we can push our departure tonight to 11PM?”

“David!” Alexis fumed. “That will put us back in New York at 4AM. I can’t go to the birthday brunch looking all puffy!”

David shrugged his shoulders, “Stevie?” He said pointedly.

While Stevie made the call, David looked at Patrick, “are you the guide for tonight’s float?”

Patrick said, “No, I’m not on the schedule for tonight.”

“Stevie?” David started.

“I’m on it.” 

The next thing Patrick knew Stevie was talking to his boss. “We would love to book Patrick for the evening sunset float this evening.” She said. She listened intently for a minute. “Let me ask him.”

“Are you willing to take us out again this evening?” Stevie asked.

Patrick smiled at her. That was so like Vance—even for a VIP client, he put his employees first. 

Patrick looked sideways at David who was once again shooting into the trees. Was it his imagination or was David holding his breath waiting for his answer?'No,' Patrick thought to himself, 'he's just in awe of the majestic birds and the aeries lining this section of the river.'

“Yes. Tell him I would be glad to.” Patrick thought he could see David’s dimple deepen when he said it.

As Patrick prepared to steer them into the sandbar he and Vance had determined would be the best spot for the photographer’s shots, he glanced at David and lowered his voice half an octave. “Fair warning…the rocks here can be pretty slippery. Wouldn’t want your equipment to get damaged.” 

David’s eyebrows shot up at the innuendo and Patrick just smiled at him and then glanced down at David’s hands that were still holding his camera.  
“Oh…you meant my camera equipment.”

“Of course, David, what did you think I meant?” Patrick asked innocently while Alexis and Stevie nudged each other and snickered. 

Patrick stepped into the water and pulled the raft as far up on the sandbar as he could, his biceps popping with the effort. He caught David looking at his arms so he smiled and winked. 

David’s eyes widened in surprise although he quickly composed himself with a practiced ease and allowed his eyes to drift down to Patrick’s muscular thighs. Patrick blushed all the way up to the tips of his ears. Flustered but confident, Patrick helped first Alexis, then Stevie, then David out of the raft. He felt an electric jolt when David took his hand. 

After they were all out of the raft, Patrick pulled the Pelican case out of the raft and put it beside David. 

“Thank you,” David said softly before getting to work. David handed Alexis her high heels and started directing her through a series of shots. 

Patrick stepped into the shade to watch. Their sibling bickering could best be described as biting with an underlying tenderness he found oddly endearing. He watched David gesturing with one hand while framing up his shots behind his tripod with the other. He moved with a kind of rhythm that was intoxicating. Patrick was spellbound by David. Though he tried to convince himself he was just exceptionally horny. 

Patrick couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten laid—well, actually he could remember it, he just didn’t want to. Jackson’s gay scene was not much to speak of—there were a few coffee shops and a bar in town that “catered” to the vacationing homosexual and tons of vacation rentals that advertised to the LGBTQIA+ community, but most of the vacationers came in pairs, and since gay marriage was legalized a lot of them had kids in tow—here to see the National Parks with their offspring just like all the heterosexuals. There were two other river guides Patrick knew of besides himself and Ronnie, a few locals, and the park rats who were almost always twinks. In the winter, of course, it was a veritable feast to be a gay guy in Jackson once the ski instructors showed up, but since Patrick didn’t live here year round he usually only got in on the tail end of that action. 

Patrick watched as David directed Alexis closer to the raft, asking Stevie to adjust how she was holding the reflector. David asked Alexis to sit with her feet outside of the raft and he squatted low to shoot up at an angle and Patrick almost lost it. David’s ass was magnificent in those tight black jeans and the hint of dark hair covering his knees did something to Patrick. Patrick adjusted his shoulders and turned to look the other way towards the light filtering through the treetops. ‘Jesus! Get a grip, Brewer,’ he scolded himself. Alexis let out a yelp and Patrick instantly turned around just in time to see her falling backwards into the raft, then he heard a telltale pop and a whoosh of air being expelled from the raft. “Oh, fuck!” he muttered. 

He jogged over to where Stevie was trying to help Alexis to her feet and before he could stop them, Alexis’ other stiletto, the one not currently stuck in the back tube of the raft pierced through the floor of the raft. It was all over in a matter of seconds. 

Patrick was momentarily speechless. Stevie’s face was ashen, and David was laughing so hard he had tears streaming down his face. Alexis was still floundering around before Patrick found his voice, “Stop!” he said in his most authoritative voice. “Just stop moving.” Alexis immediately stopped thrashing.

“Alexis, I need you to hand me your shoes,” Patrick said evenly. 

Alexis did.  
“Now take my hand,” Patrick said. Alexis did.

Patrick helped her out of the raft and shot a look at David. “Were you able to get what you needed?”

David was thumbing through the photos and was still giggling. Apparently, he’d taken a few of Alexis’ prat fall and he was now gleefully showing them to Stevie. 

“David,” Patrick said more sharply than he’d intended. “Did you get what you needed?”

David looked up guiltily and said, “yes, I think so.”

“Good. I’m going to need to fix this. It could take a little while.” Patrick said.

He reached in and pulled the raft the rest of the way onto the sandbar and flipped it over. He went to the Pelican case and pulled out a towel and a roll of duct tape. He started working on the repair. It was now officially hot and he was glad he’d already unzipped the bottom part of his pants. 

“How long is this going to take?” David asked. Patrick flashed him an irritated look. 

David immediately softened his voice. “I mean, it’s fine. I was just curious.”

Patrick looked up at him, “I should let the rubber dry for at least thirty minutes before I try to patch it. Is that going to be okay?”

David nodded his head and went to sit in the shade by Alexis and Stevie.

Patrick made a quick call to the office to let Vance know what was going on and to confirm that he’d already lined someone up to do the run to Sheep Gulch. He made his way back over to the trio and told them they would need to make some minor seating adjustments for the remainder of the float. “I’ll patch the hole in the floor, but we’ll leave the tube deflated. We’ll flip the raft and go down the river stern first.”

Alexis squeaked, “That’s not dangerous?”

“Not at all, the stern and the bow are basically identical,” Patrick replied. 

“Oh,” Alexis said. “I’m, uhmm, I’m really sorry.” 

Patrick shrugged. “Don’t be. This will be a great story someday. I’ve popped a tube on a snag, on a rock, and even because a boy scout accidentally flipped open the pocket-knife he had in his pocket. At least this time there’s no blood. I can honestly say I don’t know any other river guide who’s been in a position to see a tube popped by a pair of Jimmy Choos.”

David looked like he was going to say something but then he stopped himself. "What is it, David?" Patrick asked.

"Can we, umm," David stood up and rubbed his hands nervously on the tops of his thighs. He glanced a Stevie and Alexis who were both scrolling through their insta accounts. "Can we go over there" he nodded with his chin, "to talk about something?"

Patrick didn't know David well enough to know for sure, but he clearly had something on his mind he didn't want the girls to hear. "Sure, David. Let's go."

They walked to the edge of the river where David stood looking thoughtfully at the ground for a minute or two. Patrick kicked at a rock waiting for David to speak. He was nothing if not patient. His toe hit a flat, oblong stone and he reached down and picked it up. He leaned back and skipped it across the water, smiling in satisfaction as it skipped and bounced five times across the water.

"Wow!" David said sounding genuinely impressed. "I've never been able to skip a rock."

Patrick shrugged his shoulders. "It's not that hard, really. I could teach you sometime if you wanted." He immediately paused and looked at David.

David looked back at him. "You know what? I believe you could."

Patrick was the first to look away. "What was it you didn't want Stevie and Alexis to hear?" he asked.

David's face took on a severe almost protective quality. "Look, I know I don't have any right to ask this, but can you, umm, can you keep this whole Alexis broke my boat with her $3,000 shoes from becoming a thing? I mean, it's stupid, and funny, but she's my kid sister and she doesn't need any more bad press. I think they're going to cancel her show, and I just don't..." David paused looking back at Alexis his face softening slightly. "I guess I just don't want this adding any more fuel to that fire."

"Of course, David." Patrick said easily.

"Really? I mean, I could write you a check or something."

Patrick just looked at him.

David realized his mistake. "Or..." he said thinking quickly, "I could make a donation to your favorite charity?"

Patrick laughed. "David, You don't have to worry about it. I won't say anything to anyone about how the raft got 'broken' and Vance won't either. He's a good guy."

"But hey, if you're so inclined, you can always make a donation to your favorite LGBTQ charity and think of me fondly when you do."

David folded his arms across his chest and looked at Patrick with a self-satisfied grin on his face. "I TOLD Stevie you were flirting with me."

"Yes, yes, I was. I'm glad you picked up on that," Patrick laughed. "I'm really bad at it."

David smiled easily, "You're not as bad as you think."

By the time Patrick had the floor of the raft repaired and they finally made it back to Moose Landing it was 5 o’clock. Patrick looked at his watch and tried to hide his disappointment. He really wanted to spend more time with David. “So, listen. I know I said I'd take you on a sunset float tonight, but there’s no way I can make it back to base to get another raft in time this evening. When will you all be in town again?”

Stevie looked at him with a pained expression on her face, “Uhm. Hopefully, never?” But then she winked at him to show she hadn’t meant to include Patrick in that statement.

“Fair enough,” Patrick said. “The wild west shtick most of the tourists get to see isn’t for everyone.”

Stevie raised an eyebrow, "David, did you hear that, he even knows the Yiddish. You're grandma would be so proud."

"Stevie, shut the fu..." David started to say before Patrick interrupted him. “What about you two?” He directed the question to both Alexis and David, but he looked straight at David when he asked it. 

David and Alexis looked at each other and shrugged. Finally, David said, “As of right now, we don’t have any plans to come back.”

“That’s too bad. The mountains really are something to see at dusk. And there are usually elk and deer along the route as well. It's a photographer's paradise.” Patrick reached into his back pocket impulsively, and handed David a card with his cell number on it—he usually only gave those to people looking for private kayaking lessons he gave on his days off, but something inside him wanted David to have his number—even if he never used it.

David took the proffered card looking at it intently. His eyes were warm when he looked back up at Patrick. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “I’ll definitely call if I’m in town again.”

Patrick was surprised to see Ronnie driving the pick-up vehicle that would take David, Stevie, and Alexis back to their Suburban. "What's the matter, Ronnie?" He called, "Did you girlfriend dump you already?" 

"You wish Thumb-boy. She had to go to work." Ronnie said out the window. She looked at the trio. "Well? I don't have all night. Ya'll gonna get in or what?"

After a brief squabble between David and Alexis about who would get to ride in the front seat, and Ronnie honking the horn, David finally emerged victorious. He paused before ducking his head into the front seat of the Subaru, and his eyes met Patrick's briefly. His lips quirked up into a smile and he lifted his hand in a slight wave. 

Patrick turned back to tend to the ruined raft with a slight smile still lingering on his face.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David "stays" in town and asks Patrick out.

Patrick woke up and immediately grabbed his mobile phone the next morning. He couldn’t explain why he was so sure David was going to call or text or something, but he had felt oddly confident about it the night before. Which was why it was so disappointing to not see anything but a local news alert showing a grainy photo of Alexis as she climbed up the stairs to the private jet that he assumed was taking them back to New York. He sighed defeated and yawned. ‘Well, fuck,’ he thought to himself.

He went about his day still half hoping to hear from David. He moped around the office all morning, sighing occasionally and listlessly shuffling the stand full of brochures for horseback rides, paddleboarding on Jenny Lake, Kayak tours, private tours to Yellowstone, Elk Refuge sleigh rides—those he tucked in the back of the stand—it was the middle of summer and all of the elk had long since left the valley for higher ground. Twyla kept eyeballing him and trying to get him to tell her how he popped a tube on a “float of all things.” 

Patrick was non-committal. “Oh, shit happens, you know.” Patrick was a terrible liar. 

“What’s got your panties all in a twist?”

“What?!” Patrick asked.

“Oh, it’s a midwestern saying my Mom used to use whenever I was in my head about something. I guess they don’t say that in Toronto?” Twyla smiled.

Patrick smiled back. “No, can’t say that I’ve heard that one before.”

Twyla waited.

Patrick outwaited her.

“Fine,” Twyla said. “If you don’t want to tell me what’s bothering you, that’s fine, but I have to say your aura is very different today.”

Patrick was used to this from Twyla. He didn’t put much stock in her crystals, tarot cards, and palm reading, but he decided to humor her. “What’s wrong with my aura?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong with it. Your bridge layer is extending and radiating farther than normal—it’s almost as if you’ve met your match.”

“I’m sorry?” Patrick was confused but a little intrigued.

Twyla paused and quirked an eyebrow at him. She was used to people mocking her. “Do you really want to hear this?”

“Why not?” Patrick said suddenly more interested in hearing her hypothesis than he’d ever been before. 

Twyla nodded. “Your heart layer is still blue, which makes sense because you are so empathetic and kind, and the outer edges have always varied between orange and brown. But all of the colors are radiating and almost vibrating today.”

Patrick was pretty sure he didn’t believe her, but she had his interest anyway. “What do orange and brown represent.”

Twyla shrugged her shoulders. “It depends, really. They can mean a lot of things. In your case, I would say the orange comes from your energy and approach to life. The brown, which sounds ugly, but isn’t at all—it’s an intense golden brown color that reminds me of when sunlight hits a gray stone in the river. It’s really quite lovely.”

Patrick squirmed under Twyla’s gaze. She was looking just past him but it kind of felt like she was looking through him. “Ohhhhkay. That’s a lovely image. What does it mean?” 

Twyla’s eyes flicked back to his. “It’s a very sensible color. And you’re a very sensible guy.”

Then she waggled her eyebrows at him. “It also usually means you’re good with your hands. Which, if memory serves, is also accurate in your case.”

Patrick laughed out loud at that. Twyla had a crush on him when they first met five years ago. They’d had a brief fling at the end of the first season he was in Jackson, and then he went home for an eventful winter when he figured out who he was. She wasn’t all that surprised when he came back the next year and he told her he was sorry but that he couldn’t date her. She’d looked at him and said matter-of-factly, “Oh, is it because you’re gay?” Patrick had been completely flummoxed. "If you knew I was gay, why did you date me?" Twyla had just laughed. "I've dated a lot of gay guys--don't look so surprised."

“So,” Patrick continued, “my aura is radiating which makes you think I’ve met someone.”

Twyla cocked her head and considered him again. Patrick felt like an insect pinned to the wall. “I don’t know. Maybe. All I know is its changed. It’s like its looking for something it didn’t know it wanted and it’s pulsating out looking for it.”

Patrick took in a deep breath remembering the electric jolt he’d felt when he and David’s hands had touched. “Twyla, do you happen to have the number for the guests from yesterday?”

“The photographer?” Twyla's grin widened as all the pieces seemed to fit into place.

“Yes.”

Twyla turned towards the computer and wrote the number on a post-it note. “Here you go,” she said handing Patrick the note.

“Thanks, Twyla. I guess I should go grab some lunch before I head out for the afternoon.”

“Sure,” Twyla winked at him. “Don’t lose that number. It may lead to what you’re looking for.”

Patrick stepped outside and pulled out his phone. He might as well get this over with.

A clipped voice answered the phone, “Rose Photographic Imaginings, how may I direct your call?”

Patrick paused for a moment, “Is David Rose available?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Rose is on a flight right now. Would you like to leave a message?” 

“Oh, no. No message. Thank you,” Patrick responded.

“You’re welcome. Have a nice day.”

‘Jackson Hole yesterday, somewhere else today,’ Patrick thought to himself. ‘I wonder what that kind of life would be like?’

Patrick wasn’t his usual self on his afternoon whitewater trip and unfortunately his tip reflected it. He was distracted and his normal jokes fell flat. He’d snapped at a guest who decided to ignore the rules—which was not at all like him. Guests ignored the rules all the time. He redeemed himself a little bit at the end of the trip by telling the parents about an indoor climbing gym that offered afternoon private lessons for all three ages of their kids. He could spot a family heading for vacation overload a mile away.

As he was driving back towards base, his phone buzzed with a text, and then another, and another, one right after the other. He pulled off to the side of the road hoping it wasn’t bad news from home although he couldn’t imagine getting texts instead of an actual call if that were the case.

It was an out of area number he didn’t recognize. It took him a minute to realize the texts had come in backwards.

Out of Area  
  
Why are you ignoring me?  
  
I hope this is Patrick Brewer's phone. If it's not, ignore me.  
  
Did you get my text?  
  
I'm still in town  
  
Do you have plans tonight?  
  
From yesterday  
  
This is David.  
  
  
  


Patrick’s hands started sweating. He punched the Call button anyway.

“Hello?” David sounded surprised to get an actual call.

“Hi, David. It’s Patrick.”

“I know.” David said.

Patrick waited.

“Why didn’t you text me?”

“What, now? Do you want me to hang up and text you?” Patrick was genuinely confused.

“No, before.” David answered.

“I just got your texts.”

“Oh.”

“So you stayed in town?”

“Umm. Yes.” David hesitated. “Do you have plans for tonight?”

“I don’t actually. Did you want to book that sunset float?”

“Yes. I mean, no.” David rushed on, “Yes, I want to do a sunset float, but not tonight. I was wondering if you wanted to come to a party at a friend’s house?”

“A party? Here in Jackson Hole?” 

“Yes. I just found out he has a vacation house here, which is why I…umm…why I stayed.”

“Sure, I guess. What time?”

“Can you come pick me up at my hotel and we can go from there?”

“Of course,” Patrick wondered what happened to the big Suburban, but if David wanted him to pick him up he would.

“Okay, does 8 o’clock work? He’s planning on dinner at 9,” David went on.

‘What was it with east coasters and dinner at bedtime?’ Patrick wondered. “I’m afraid that might be kind of a late party for me. I have a morning all-day whitewater trip tomorrow, I’ll need to leave by 11.”

“Oh,” David sounded disappointed.

“We could do something tomorrow night instead,” Patrick offered. “How long will you be in town?”

“I haven’t decided,” David replied.

“We’ll just go for appetizers. I’ll tell him.”

“Okay, David. I’ll see you at 8. You’re at the Jackson Hole Lodge, right?”

“How did you know that?” Patrick could imagine David’s expression just by the tone of his voice.

“I’m not a stalker, David. It’s where all the rich people stay.” Patrick teased—he hadn’t known David for more than a few hours but he knew enough to know he wouldn’t like being perceived as predictable.

“I’m kidding, David,” Patrick hastily added. “You were on the news here this morning—or rather Alexis was. Should I wear anything specific tonight?”

“Wear whatever you want,” David said, “It’s casual. Except maybe not…”

“Don’t worry David, I won’t wear my Keens. I was thinking my dress Crocs instead.”

David groaned. “Shut the fuck up. I’ll see you tonight.”

Patrick couldn’t stop smiling the whole ride back to the ranch.

****************

Patrick changed his shirt four times before finally landing on a fitted blue button down that emphasized his shoulders and his waist. He slid on a pair of khakis and a pair of brown loafers sans socks. It was about as designer as his closet got. The shirt had gotten him laid before though, so maybe it would bring him a little luck tonight. Although Patrick wasn’t sure he wanted to get lucky with David, at least not tonight. As attractive as David was, Patrick felt like he wanted to get to know him a little bit. He knew their lives were completely unworkable, but he liked David’s voice, he liked how he cared about his sister even though he didn’t want her to know it. As awesome as a one-night stand could be, he was pretty sure one night with David wouldn’t be enough.

Patrick entered the lobby and looked around for David. He wasn’t actually surprised that David wasn’t there. Getting that hair into that perfect shape probably took time. He started to head for the bar when the concierge stopped him. “Patrick Brewer?”

“Yes.”

“Mr. Rose called down to say he’s running late. He would like you to meet him in his suite. He’s on the third floor in the Cottonwood suite.”

"Thank you.”

Patrick made his way up the hand-carved staircase and down the long elegant hallway. David’s door was slightly ajar. Patrick took a breath and knocked anyway. “David?” he called.

“In here. I just need another minute.” David called from what Patrick assumed was the bedroom. “Grab yourself a beer or whatever from the fridge.”

Patrick looked around in awe. He’d been to the lodge many times but had never been in a guest room let alone a suite. The décor was an incredible combination of western aesthetic without being too overtly “Cowboy.” The soft gray linen of the sofa contrasted beautifully with what was clearly a very expensive hand-loomed rug. A massive twig and crystal chandelier hung in the center of the room. There was a full-size kitchen, bigger than his entire apartment back home. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.

Patrick sat on the sofa and waited. He wasn’t sure if he should turn on the television or grab a magazine or whatever so he just sat and drank his water. His eyes never leaving the bedroom door. 

When David finally opened the door, every thought Patrick had of NOT wanting to fuck him flew completely out the window. It had only been eighteen hours or so since he’d seen him but he’d clearly forgotten how beautiful he was—especially in whatever it was he was wearing tonight. It was some kind of hoodie with hair standing up on the top like a mohawk. He was wearing tight black pants and some kind of skirt over the top of them. Over the top of all of it, David wore a leather jacket and leather motorcycle boots. As if all of that weren’t enough, David’s lips were jet black. They matched the thick line of eye liner around his eyes perfectly. The whole look was meticulously planned and breathtakingly delicious. 

Patrick had always had a thing for the goth girls in high school, and now that he thought about it, probably some of the guys as well. David was fucking spectacular.

“You look,” Patrick paused not sure if he should say what he was thinking.

“I look what,” David’s tone was slightly defensive with an undertone of, was that, hope?

“Fucking Delicious,” Patrick answered as he stood up and walked over to David. 

“Delicious, huh?” David asked smirking.

“Holy fuck, yes,” Patrick answered as he wrapped his hand around David’s neck and tugged him towards him a little bit. His eyes flicked down to David’s lips.  
David’s eyes landed on Patrick’s lips as well. 

“You know if you kiss me,” he whispered, “I’m going to have to do my lips again.”

“So you’ll do your lips again,” Patrick chuckled as his lips met David’s.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Patrick and David go on a date and discover a few things about each other in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So grateful for the love from my Rose Apothecary Discord frans. I've decided to add an epilogue to this story just for them (and for me), but mostly for them.

After David fixed his lips for a second time, they finally left the lodge. As Patrick pulled out of the parking lot he asked David for the address.

“Don't you want me to put in my maps app?” David asked.

“Jackson’s not that big, David. I’m pretty sure if you tell me the address, I’ll probably know where it is.”

“Hmm,” David murmured doubtfully. As he scrolled back through his text messages for the address, Patrick couldn’t resist glancing sideways at him. David’s profile was a sight to behold. Dark eyes, dark lips, perfect nose that seemed just a smidge…off.

“How’d you break your nose?” Patrick asked.

David gasped and his hand flew to his face. “What? How did…?” 

“Calm down, David,” Patrick said and then quickly added, “You have a beautiful nose. Let’s just say,” he rubbed his own nose, “I can recognize the signs of a good plastic surgeon. I’ve broken my nose twice.”

David relaxed slightly and smiled. “I bet you didn’t break yours on purpose though.” 

It was Patrick’s turn to be confused. “Why in the world would you break your own nose?”

“Oh, I didn’t. I just let a basketball hit me in the face so I could get a new one.”

Patrick gave him a side-long glance. “How old were you?”

“Thirteen. My Dad got it for my bar mitzvah.”

“Okay, wait. Are you saying he got you the basketball or the nose?”

“Both,” David smiled and laughed.

“Okay, this I have to hear. But first, give me the address.”

“Okay," David said reading from the text, "he says it’s the second to last switch back on Saddle Butte drive.” He pursed his lips. “Well, that’s not at all helpful. How many switchbacks are there and how are we supposed to know which is the second to last without driving forever to see if we’ve come to the last switchback and then circling back?” 

David was so busy muttering to himself; he didn’t even notice that Patrick had gone silent and ashen-faced beside him. 

“That’s just like him,” David said, “only giving half of the information you need and then he’ll be mad because we’re late.” David turned to look at Patrick ready to apologize for the lack of details when he saw the look on Patrick’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“David, is your friend’s name Sebastian by any chance?” Patrick really didn’t want to hear the answer.

David’s eyes flew open in shock. “You know Sebastian?”

“Yes, and I would really like you to text him to say we’re not coming,” Patrick said matter-of-factly.

“Why?” David asked although he knew the minute he asked that he shouldn’t have. He knew why. Sebastian was a dick and if Patrick knew him and didn’t want to go to his house tonight, David knew why.

“What did he do to you?” David asked softly. 

Patrick turned and looked at him. “Nothing I didn’t ask him to. But I would prefer not to relive it.”

David quickly sent a text and then put his phone down.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, so if we’re not going to the party, what do you want to do instead?”

“Have you eaten yet?” Patrick asked.

“Only if you count two candy bars from the snack bar in my room,” David answered.

“Well, we can’t have that,” Patrick said as he picked up David’s hand and kissed the back of his knuckles. “Thank you for not making me take you to the party.”

David held onto Patrick’s hand and pulled it to his lips, brushing his lips along the back of Patrick’s hand. “Listen, I’m sorry for whatever he did to you. He’s an asshole. Let’s forget about him for tonight, okay?” 

David turned Patrick’s hand over in both of his own and planted a kiss on his palm, then flicked his tongue against it quickly.

Patrick gasped and goosebumps broke out all up and down his arms. He pulled his hand away. “Sorry, unless you want us to crash, I should probably have my hand back.”

He squirmed somewhat uncomfortably in his seat and David threw his head back and laughed. “That fast, huh?”

“Apparently,” Patrick grinned back.

David settled back in his seat with a self-satisfied smirk. “Where are you taking me to eat?”

“To the best fucking taco truck west of the Mississippi,” Patrick said. “You like tacos, yes?”

“Sure,” David said.

“Good, because they have the BEST pork street tacos you’ve ever eaten—hand to God.”

“Oh, umm.” David said suddenly very serious. “I don’t, I don’t…” he stuttered. “I don’t actually eat pork. Do you know if they have anything kosher?” 

Patrick instantly panicked. ‘Good one, Brewer,' he thought to himself. 'The first guy you've actually wanted to get to know in awhile just told you he got a new nose for his bar mitzvah and you start talking about pork tacos! Jesus, you’re a fucking idiot.’ 

“I’m not sure,” he managed to stammer out. “We can go somewhere else,” he said, trying to frantically think of anyplace in Jackson that might be kosher.

A few seconds later, David broke out laughing. “I’m only kidding. I eat pork. You should have seen the look on your face though…” David was wiping tears from under his eye he was laughing so hard. He pulled his hand away and grimaced. “Now look what you made me do, I messed up my eyeliner!”

Patrick reached over and squeezed David’s thigh, “It serves you right!”

After they’d had their fill of tacos, which David agreed were the best he’d ever eaten, Patrick took him for a drive, not up to Saddle Butte drive, which truly had some of the best views in the whole area, but down along the river to a still undeveloped spot between the golf course and Cattleman’s bridge just off of Spring Gulch road. 

Rumor had it that the golf course owners had been trying for years to develop the property but the environmental study said it would cause too much damage to the already over-developed flood plain surrounding the Gros Ventre river. It was one of Patrick’s favorite places because it was a virtual oasis within the city limits. 

As Patrick’s car bumped along over the rough gravel road and into the pine trees, David looked around as all signs of civilization disappeared. As they came up over a ridge, he gasped. The view of the Grand Tetons eclipsed so much of the landscape in Jackson Hole, that David hadn’t even paid attention to the mountains that bordered the Eastern side of the valley. The mountains were a brilliant shade of pink that is only seen during a high-elevation alpenglow sunset.

Patrick parked the car and opened his door. “Come on! Let’s take a walk.”

David got out of the car and found himself walking beside Patrick. Their arms kept brushing together but Patrick didn’t take his hand, which kind of pissed him off. David wasn’t usually fond of holding hands but damn it, this was seriously the most romantic thing he’d done in like, forever, and Patrick wouldn’t even hold his hand. 

David huffed out an irritated sounding sigh.

Patrick stopped. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” David said and kept walking. 

“What the hell?” Patrick didn’t move from where he was standing. 

David turned around and crossed his arms in front of his body. “I thought we were going for a nice romantic walk!”

“We are!” Patrick said and then looked around, “and if we hurry, it will be even more romantic, I promise.”

David glared at him. “Why won’t you hold my hand?”

Patrick was completely caught off guard. “What? I was trying to get you to hold MY hand, ever since we got out of the car!”

David’s jaw went slack. “Why would I hold your hand?”

Patrick put both hands on his hips. “David Rose, I swear to God, if you are going to give me some bullshit butch/femme thing right now…”

David threw his head back and laughed again. His laugh was so infectious Patrick couldn’t help himself but join in. 

David held out his hand to Patrick, “We are both fucking idiots.”

When they rounded the corner at the end of the small path they were on, David gasped again. Just the very tip of Pyramid Peak, the part that still had snow on it, was watermelon pink. And in front of them, just across the river were half a dozen deer drinking from the river. 

David wrapped an arm around Patrick’s shoulders and leaned towards him. “I really wish I’d brought my camera," he whispered.

Patrick looked up at him fondly. “You can bring it tomorrow night," he said as he slid his arm around David's waist.


	5. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nine months later...

David laid his head on the back of their sofa and continued combing his fingers through Patrick’s curls. Patrick’s head was laying in David’s lap and he was almost asleep.

“Do we really have to go to Twyla’s reading tonight?” Patrick asked, his voice low and relaxed.

David stopped moving his fingers. He lifted his head and looked down at Patrick.

“Patrick Brewer, need I remind you, she is _your friend_ and YOU are the one who said we would go?”

Patrick watched fake irritation play across David’s face and he couldn’t help but smile. He sat up rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay. I’m going to grab a quick shower.”

He stood up and started to walk away before he stopped and looked down at David. He held out his hand, “Aren’t you coming with me?”

They’d been in their apartment for less than two weeks and the novelty of being naked together anywhere and everywhere they wanted to be hadn’t worn off yet.

They’d been dating for nine months now.

Patrick had lasted exactly three dates before he’d given up on his completely ridiculous notion of learning everything there was to know about David before he let things get physical. He justified his behavior by telling himself on the fourth day he’d known David, the day of their third “official” date, that he could spend the rest of his life trying and he’d still not know everything there was to know about David. He'd thought this to himself as he was on his knees ghosting his breath over David’s black briefs.

The man constantly surprised him. Like when Patrick first introduced David to Twyla a few weeks after they’d started dating and she had looked David straight in the eyes and had said, “so your settled on this, yes?” David had looked intently back at her and said, “It’s the wine not the label that matters.”

Twyla had nodded sagely in agreement and had turned back to her work.

When they got outside, Patrick had asked, “What the hell was that all about?”

David answered, “She was basically asking if I was okay with being with a man long-term.”

Patrick had looked at him in utter confusion. “What do you mean okay with being with a man? Oh, my God, are you straight?”

Patrick was so not prepared to deal with this. His head started spinning and his mind raced back over everything they’d said and done since that first float when he’d been so sure David had been checking him out.

David could tell Patrick was starting to spiral. His instincts kicked in and he stepped into Patrick’s space and leaned in and kissed him hard. He moved his lips against Patrick’s until Patrick’s mouth opened under his and his arms wrapped around David’s waist pulling him closer. When David broke their kiss he leaned his forehead against Patrick’s. “I can’t believe you didn’t Google me.”

Patrick was still catching his breath. “Why would I have Googled you?”

David looked at him fondly. “Because everyone I’ve ever dated has. I just assumed you knew and were okay with it.”

“Knew what, David?”

They’d gone on to have a long, thoughtful conversation about pan sexuality. They’d shared their coming out stories, stories of heart breaks, and crushes, and strangest first dates, and first sexual experiences and everything people who really, really like each other tend to talk about at the beginning of a relationship. Patrick had taken great satisfaction teasing David and trying to get him to admit he'd said "long term." They’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms in David’s hotel room as the dawn was breaking over Pyramid peak.

David had returned to New York twice that summer. He’d arranged his trips when Patrick was booked for back to back full-day whitewater trips. He’d basically turned over the business side of Rose Artistic Imaginings to Stevie and was enjoying reinventing himself as a landscape photographer. The Tetons are said to be the most photographed mountain range in the world. There was something about David’s eye, or perhaps it was the reputation he’d built for himself, that kept his giant metal art prints selling out faster than he could have them produced.

This was the first time since they’d both decided to stay in Jackson for the winter that David would be going back to New York. It was only for a few nights but still Patrick couldn’t keep his hands off David as they drove to Twyla’s poetry reading. 

David was driving which gave Patrick the opportunity to do one his favorite things in the whole world—sit and stare at the man he loved.

“I’m going to miss you.”

David glanced over at him and said, “I’m going to miss you too.”

The next morning they exchanged a quick hug as Patrick dropped David off at the airport. David had stopped borrowing his Dad’s plane and had flown commercial the last two trips.

As usual, David sent a text when he was through security.

My Heart  
  
Thanks for dropping me off. Boarding in twenty. I love you.  
  
You're welcome. I love you too.  
  
  
  


Three days felt like forever to Patrick as he hung around their apartment. How had he gone from someone who enjoyed his alone time to not having any idea what to do with himself? With David gone, it felt like half of him was missing.

The day David was flying back, he sent Patrick a text early in the morning.

My Heart  
  
Flight gets in at 6. Meet me at Palate at 8:30? I have something important to ask you.  
  
Why don't I just come and pick you up?  
  
  
  
I have to run an errand as soon as I get back into town. Meet me at the restaurant, k?  
  
Okay  
  


Patrick spent the whole afternoon going back and forth between being annoyed (seriously, who eats dinner a half hour before bedtime?!) and being freaked out of his mind that David was going to ask him to move to New York, or fuck, get married?!!! Palate was the fanciest restaurant in town. It was the kind of place where people got engaged.

When Patrick arrived at the restaurant the host led him to a private booth in the back. Of course David wasn’t there yet. Patrick had a view of the whole restaurant from where he sat and his eyes landed on David the moment he entered the room. Seriously, David was like a magnet and Patrick was a piece of metal that couldn’t help but be drawn in.

David sat down and gave him a sedate peck on the cheek. He had a sly smile on his face.

They enjoyed an amazing (and incredibly expensive in Patrick’s view) surf and turf. David talked excitedly about his trip and about how Stevie and Alexis were doing. He’d been able to see his parents too—somewhat randomly—they were on the way back to California from Europe and decided to take a few days’ layover in the city.

After finishing their meal they agreed to share a dessert. David even let Patrick choose because, as he said teasingly “really, when it comes to dessert how could you go wrong?”

David reached into the leather pouch (“this is not a man purse” he’d insisted to Patrick many times) and placed a flat, rectangular velvet box on the table between them.

“Open it." David's smile was bright enough to light up the whole room. He was clearly excited about something.

Patrick could tell by the shape of the box that it wasn't a ring box which made him oddly disappointed. He was sure he wanted that with David but supposed it was much too soon for either of them. He tried not to let his disappointment show. He opened the box and pulled out a gold key.

“What’s this for, David?” He’d asked hesitantly.

“Our new storefront on the square.”

“What new storefront?” Patrick asked.

“I convinced Lizzy B to sell me her place,” David almost shouted his news.

“Holy shit! How?” Patrick was stunned. Lizzy B was a Jackson Hole legend. She claimed to be 100 something years old and had owned “Browse and Buy” on the corner of the square since 1947 when she’d bought the building with her survivor benefits. After her husband died in the war, she'd flipped a coin above a map and drove to the spot on the map where it landed. She liked to joke that she might have nudged it off of Casper slightly since she didn't believe in ghosts. Rumor had it that she’d turned down a $6M dollar offer for the place just last year.

“How much did you pay her?” Patrick managed to squeak out.

David grinned like a Cheshire Cat. “$20 bucks.”

Patrick was shocked. “David, you can’t take advantage of an old lad...” he’d started to say.

David held up his hand looking offended. “And a $650,000 donation to the Gros Ventre Conservation Fund AND we have to fix up her apartment in the back. She needs new carpet and would like a walk in bathtub. I told her I would have contractors there next week. I hope you know some contractors!”

Patrick grabbed David’s face and kissed him soundly. When they finally pulled apart, Patrick asked, “So, why the $20?”

David’s smile grew delightfully wicked. “That’s what she wants listed on the bill of sale. It’s pretty much her way of giving all the developers in town the middle finger.”

That night as they lay in bed stroking each other’s skin, Patrick asked the question he wasn’t sure he should ask earlier, “Why did you say 'our' store when you gave me the key, David?”

“Because, I want it to be ours. I don’t know what we’ll do with it yet. Maybe we’ll sell my photos, maybe we won’t. You may have other ideas.”

They were silent for several long minutes. Patrick thought David might have drifted to sleep. And then David said, “Do you really want to keep driving the pass everyday to do the books for Teton Outfitters in Victor? You could do the books for our store or do whatever you want and you could still guide in the summer.”

Patrick turned his head to press a kiss against David’s shoulder. “Okay, David. I’m in.” And he was. All in. He didn’t sleep the rest of the night; his mind racing with the possibilities.

The next morning David came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. He trailed kisses all across Patrick’s shoulders.

“There’s one thing I forgot to tell you,” David said.

“Yeah, what’s that?” Patrick asked leaning back into David's embrace.

“Whatever we do, I agreed not to sell the place for at least ten years after Lizzy B dies.”

Patrick took in a shuddering breath before he turned around in David’s arms. “So you’re telling me that you want us to be in business together for the next ten years?”

David’s eyes were shining as he knelt down on one knee and handed Patrick another small box. This one was a very recognizable robin’s egg shade of blue. He’d picked it up at Tiffany’s on his way to the airport the day before.


End file.
